


Remarkable

by stephanericher



Series: SASO 17 [22]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 00:52:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13224774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: “Are you here for something besides trash talk or can I finish my lunch?”(touou!tatsuya)





	Remarkable

**Author's Note:**

> written for saso br5. for jessibot.

They said they’d be sending someone to welcome him; on the phone call with the coach Tatsuya had said it would be quite alright. He hasn’t been to Tokyo in maybe ten years, but there’s no better way at familiarizing yourself than getting lost in your surroundings and figuring out the best way to hail a cab. The coach had said that of course they’d send someone, and Tatsuya had decided he’d pick his battles once he’d gotten there.  
  
The problem is finding whoever they’d sent; Coach hadn’t specified if it would be him (probably not, though?) or an assistant, or someone unrelated to the school at all. There are people holding up signs; Tatsuya’s kanji is a little bit rusty but he knows when something isn’t his own name. There’s a Himuro someone else, but not him, and soon a middle-aged woman rushes over to that person. Names he thinks he knows, names he doesn’t; Tatsuya scans the line. There’s a bored-looking teenager at the end of the row, half-asleep with a magazine tucked under his arm. The sign in his hand is crumpled; Tatsuya peers. It couldn’t be. That’s definitely Himuro, and then—the rest is covered by the boy’s hand.   
  
“Excuse me,” says Tatsuya. “Are you from Touou?”  
  
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” says the teenager. “You’re the new guy?”  
  
“I’m Himuro Tatsuya, yes.” (Is now the time he’s supposed to bow? Shit, at least this guy doesn’t seem to be fazed by his maybe-lack of Japanese manners.)  
  
“Where the fuck is Imayoshi,” the guy mutters.  
  
“And you are?” says Tatsuya.  
  
“Aomine. Daiki. Captain told me to wait here, but he probably ditched me.”  
  
This is the Touou team, huh? Tatsuya’s actually been looking forward to beating Taiga all on his own, so maybe this is the perfect opportunity.

* * *

Tatsuya had thought too soon. He hadn’t said anything when he was told Aomine was the ace, though he’s not surprised to see that Aomine doesn’t show up to practice. Imayoshi, as flighty as he seems, is a fierce guard on the court; the other starting forwards, Susa and Wakamatsu, are strong and bold, every bit a match for their reputation. Touou is as advertised, missing ace aside, and it’s good to practice with teammates who have the same focus. Individual strength, bringing those individual strengths out in games. The team manager, Momoi, always seems to know how to do that in drills, and Tatsuya’s feeling—not challenged, but pushed from behind, as they approach the first game. And then Aomine shows up at practice.   
  
“Heard you were hot shit,” he drawls from the doorway like he’s playing at being an action star (and okay, he does look enough of the part).   
  
“I’ve only so much as heard about you,” says Tatsuya.  
  
He’s expecting to be challenged, not to be matched, not to be nearly blown out of the water by a monster (they’ve said as much about Aomine, some kind of hotshot basketball clique he’d belonged to, that he’d been that much better; Tatsuya had maybe been too arrogant, believing that they wouldn’t want some foreigner to be as good as their guy, that if Aomine doesn’t practice then his skills have to go somewhere other than him). His showing is poor, the worst he’d put in since that last game against Taiga before that stupid ultimatum, down ten-four in a first to ten; Tatsuya can’t look his teammates in the eyes and there’s some kind of look on Aomine’s face that Tatsuya doesn’t know him well enough to read. Tatsuya tries not to look angry; there goes his teammates’ respect for him (if they’d had much).  
  
Wakamatsu slaps him on the back. “That was crazy, man. None of us could even put up one against him.”  
  
So what? Tatsuya knows he’s a better player than these guys; it’s just a sham if he’s the best one in practice, if there’s someone that far above him (maybe that’s where Taiga is now). There’s no way he’s going to get to face off against Aomine again, not until he trains harder, but there’s no one to train against except Aomine and that’s the rub.

* * *

“Hey.”  
  
Tatsuya looks up from his perch on the bench, his school shoes soaking on the damp lawn. “Aomine. Hi,”  
  
Aomine sits down next to him, pushing up the sleeves of his jacket. “Why?”  
  
“Why what?” says Tatsuya.  
  
“Why do you try so damn hard?” says Aomine. “You know you’re not, like, you know?”  
  
“Like you? Yeah, I know,” says Tatsuya, as lightly as he can. “Are you here for something besides trash talk or can I finish my lunch?”  
  
Aomine squints at him, and Tatsuya takes another bite of rice. And then Aomine reaches over, as if to grab at Tatsuya’s necklace, and Tatsuya squirms backward, nearly spilling his lunch. Is Aomine trying to pick a fight? Get a rise out of Tatsuya? (That bit’s nearly working, though how he can nitpick so easily at these weaknesses is more than a little alarming, like a sign that Aomine’s some kind of hellspawn who’s been sent to destroy Tatsuya in every way it can, basketball, emotional, probably in a fistfight, too.)  
  
“I know a guy,” says Aomine. “He’s got the same one.”  
  
“Remarkable," says Tatsuya, shoveling a large mouthful of food into his mouth so he can avoid answering a little longer.  
  
But Aomine doesn’t say anything; he rises to his feet and walks off the way he came. Tatsuya tries not to think about Taiga, about how Aomine has to have figured it out if he knows Taiga, about how Taiga’s got to be the one person out there who can match him. How Tatsuya’s so far behind and the gulf’s growing wider every day (and maybe it would have been better if Taiga had been a little more like Aomine, a little more blunt and willing to realize the gap for what it is).

* * *

Seirin, that’s their first round, that’s Taiga’s team. And this match is all about Taiga and Aomine, Aomine who’s excited to play in a match for the first time Tatsuya’s seen, Aomine who’s challenging Taiga from the getgo. Tatsuya never has much of a chance, to talk to Taiga or face off against him, but seeing each other, well. Tatsuya’s not proud or happy to see how deep the look of hurt cuts Taiga’s face, as deeply as it cuts his own insides (though for him it’s all self-inflicted). There’s something about that little blue-haired kid, something about Seirin’s coach, and Tatsuya doesn’t give a shit. Taiga’s hurting; he doesn’t play well; he doesn’t throw the game but he’s caught, between Aomine and the force of everything Tatsuya’s done to him getting thrown back in his face.  
  
Aomine leaves in the second half, but it’s not enough; there is still so much Tatsuya and Taiga haven’t said, that it almost doesn’t matter until Taiga fucking blocks the mirage shot. At least Aomine hadn’t been there to see that, though what does it matter what he thinks? What does it matter that this is Touou’s win?   
  
At least Aomine’s easy to find afterward, huddled in his coat in the cold. Tatsuya doesn’t have to say a word, just look at him, just let down the mask and God, it feels good to show all the rage and fury that’s been building inside of him, at himself and at Aomine (fairly or not, but if the world’s not fair to him he’s going to be just as fucking unfair right back).  
  
“Come on, I didn’t want to step in the middle of that shit,” says Aomine.  
  
“You already fucking did, the first time you played him,” says Tatsuya. “Maybe you didn’t sign up for it, but life’s not fair.”  
  
“You think I fucking think it is?” says Aomine.   
  
So Tatsuya wants to punch him, so he probably wants to punch Tatsuya, too, so they’re almost the same kind of person, the twisted mirror of the person they think they want to be, the same kind of bitter with the opposite kind of luck. So their teammates who have a bracket to complete, a trophy at the end of the line that Tatsuya almost doesn’t care about because of this, because of Taiga. So Aomine kisses him, full-on and sloppy like he’s never kissed anyone in his life, and maybe he fucking hasn’t.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing?” Tatsuya says, and he feels his voice start to break.  
  
His fist is somehow clenched in the front of Aomine’s coat; maybe he’s already crying. And then Aomine kisses him again, rough and raw, and Tatsuya lets himself stop thinking.


End file.
